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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28098627">In Deaths Reach</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvoBianco/pseuds/CorvoBianco'>CorvoBianco</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>:), All witchers are gods and are old as fuck, Ciri gets mutated, Geralt calls Ciri Little Life because he loves her, God of Death Geralt, God of Monsters Geralt, I’ll add more tags as it comes, M/M, Multi, No Witcher that has been mutated is dead, Probably won’t tho, Witchers are gods and tired of everyone’s shit, also this will be more than one chapter, and then get pleasantly surprised when they do, angst?? Yeah, btw my updates will be super slow expect them to never come, don’t listen to a03, horny Geralt who simps for vampires, protective Geralt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:08:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28098627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvoBianco/pseuds/CorvoBianco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“The sky turned red as the sun overlapped the moon. Rivers, lakes, oceans even turning red with blood spilled long ago. Darkness filled the land with demonic whispers tempting them all to travel out into the unknown where the shadows thickened. They all tucked into their little houses, candles lit and looking out the window like maggots cowering inside a corpse. </p><p>Every now and then, people would lose belief. Belief that one day- they will die- and, when they do, they will be dragged down to the afterlife, like any other. It was inescapable, yet it did not stop them from forgetting. So it forced Geralt’s hand. He had to do something about it, it was a rule. And what else was death to do but kill? This world was in connection with many others, so if it’s entire population were to suddenly... disappear... that would cause quite a commotion among them all, hm?”</p><p>Witchers are gods who have to keep it a secret. Geralt sees regis again, chaos ensues</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dettlaff van der Eretein/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dettlaff van der Eretein/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yo so this is wild, been in the works for awhile and don’t think I’ve forgotten about Blessed be im just very lazy :) </p><p>Also vomiting TW just be worried abt it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sky turned red as the sun overlapped the moon. Rivers, lakes, oceans even turning red with blood spilled long ago. Darkness filled the land with demonic whispers tempting them all to travel out into the unknown where the shadows thickened. They all tucked into their little houses, candles lit and looking out the window like maggots cowering inside a corpse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every now and then, people would lose </span>
  <em>
    <span>belief. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Belief that one day- they will die- and, when they do, they will be dragged down to the afterlife, like any other. It was inescapable, yet it did not stop them from forgetting. So it forced Geralt’s hand. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do something about it, it was a rule. And what else was death to do but kill? This world was in connection with many others, so if it’s entire population were to suddenly... disappear... that would cause quite a commotion among them all, hm? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, regrettably, he would have to slaughter this annoying little world like a fiend slaughters the odd stray human. By their screams they </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he was, and why he was here. No doubt as soon as he showed himself they would throw themselves at his feet, begging for their lives. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He showed himself, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span> self. Not that half disguise that all witchers wore to lessen the fear humans got when they arrived, and relished in the familiar feeling of pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>power</span>
  </em>
  <span> rushing through him. He looked down at his pale hands and pure black claws, and a grin spread across his face, wind picking up and sending his now longer hair flying all over the place. That was one of the few downsides to this form. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A bird corpse dropped from the sky, landing on his foot, crumpled and pitiful as it croaked in its death throes. This was another of the downsides, all non-sentient creatures around him died instantly. It wasn’t like he could help it, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Death.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was a part of the job description. Geralt kneeled down, robes pooling at his feet as he cooed at the dying animal, finally taking its life himself by stroking it along the beak, sighing when it fell limp.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> A soft whine of a wolf pulled him from his thoughts. Wolves, -you see, were the only non-sentient creatures aside from monsters that didn’t die instantly when around him, as they were his... messengers, if you could call them that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked up at it, nodding his head down in a subtle sign to continue, lips quirking upwards as it trotted to him, and bumped their heads together. He closed his eyes, and let the sea of visions cover him. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Millions of monsters.. tearing into humans and elves alike, their screams causing his sensitive ears to ring. Despite that, this was good news, his command had gone through. This would make things much easier, as now he didn’t have to travel the entire globe to rid it of these annoyances who thought they were greater than gods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled away, allowing his hand to cup the wolves jaw and stroke it in gentle pets, a rumbling purr leaving him. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“Thank you, little one”</em>
  </b>
  <span> he rasped, voice already having gone guttural and disturbing from his time spent in this form. The wolf nodded minutely, turned around on its heel, and trotted off. Likely returning to its pack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked away from the retreating wolf to the city carved from the mountain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was time to get to work. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hermit stood, shoulders squared and head high as the peasant scum surrounded him, he breathed deeply, “I see you gather before me… hungry… terrified… Clutching your babes to your breast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emperor Emhyr has marched his legions into our land.. Laid siege to every fortress from here to the Blue Mountains.. Rabid and Ravenous, he bites and bites away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Men of the North, you stand on the precipice! Your kings have failed you, so now you turn to the gods! And yet you do not plead? You do not kneel to dust your heads with ash? Instead you wail, ‘Why have the gods forsaken us?’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why have they? Why have they turned their noses up at the very thought of helping you. Pathetic in your treatment of them, you commit sacrilege on their very forms! Spitting and telling the gods to curse them, when they themselves are the gods you turn and ask for you and your child to stay safe from the very monsters they kill? Why should they? Why should they protect you from these monsters when all you do is spit at their every arrival, instead of praising them for allowing you to live another day? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The White Wolf and his brethren. Gods of Death and Destruction that walk among us now, working silently and gracefully, protecting us from the horrors that lie in the night, and allowing the ones who fall to it a peaceful passing have shown themselves once more. The needless death caused by the wars angering them, yet your curses and spit angering them more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The White Wolf, wearing the medallion of silver. Where he walks death and chaos follow in his wake. My people, that does not mean for you to curse them anymore, it means for you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>beg</span>
  </em>
  <span>. To please them so they do not make your passing painful. To allow your last words to your children to be finished, not cut off from the claws of the afterlife yanking your soul from its body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My people, the gods have returned to lay their blessings upon us, do not shun their efforts.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**** </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man wandered the endless hallways and stairs of his home. Well, it wasn’t exactly his home, it was a hideous amalgamation of it inside the realm of witchers that they called the aether, or the afterworld. Stairs floating alone in the black dusty void, only to connect to a hallway floating in the far distance. This was the very edge of it, with barely any room to walk without tripping and falling into the void that loomed all around, hiding eager hands of the dead that wanted nothing more than to taste blood once again. Idly he tossed his milky white hair behind his shoulder, brushing against his lower back gently, the pale strands longer than it was in his ‘human form’. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Striding up a set of dark stone stairs, Geralt’s long black skirt trailing behind him with his steps, the quiet rasp of it against the stone was the only noise in the void, as his feet did not make a sound, it never did. Once he reached the top of the stairs it broke off in chunks, it’s rubble floating in place, but just like the area surrounding him, the rest of it was pure, writhing black void. The witcher’s medallion shivered against his naked chest, indicating nearby magic. Geralt’s hand unconsciously went to rest on it’s cool pointed metal, and as soon as he did, he appeared in a large ballroom. It was decorated with colored silks and opal pillars, dark oaken tables filled to the brim with food that never rotted, an entire raw corpse of a fiend resting impossibly as the centerpiece of one, while a whale was another. On the other side of the room the entire back wall had thrones, all different in their style and make, with different heights, like a pyramid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> His throne, darkened and devilish, sat at the top with black twisting metal and golden silks. Golden skulls decorated the end of its arms and at the back of it, it had various monochrome silks tying into a golden ringlet, reaching up to bond together with the colorful silks that covered the room. Floating orbs of light changed to a deep sinister red as he passed by, climbing the stairs with an inhuman grace. He lowered himself into his rightful throne, crossing his ankle over his knee proudly, while tapping a sharp nail against the golden skull on his right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Icy pain raced from his stomach to his throat, and he coughed, bending forward and gagging wetly, legs uncrossing for him to hunch further. Blackened blood dropped from his nose, landing into a puddle on the floor that caused it to crack like glass, a small black rose growing in its place. Geralt heaved, choked, and finally, vomited. Buckets of acidic blood falling on the clean floor, streaming to the middle, shattering the floor causing, black roses to bloom between the cracks. The god gagged once more, stomach rolling, but he no longer felt that icy pain. He was left panting on his throne, looking at the many roses left in his blood's wake. Transitioning between worlds through his sleep always upset his stomach. A mages portal would do the same, despite the differences of transitioning through sleep and through a portal. He might as well wake up, he's surveyed the halls, no stray spirits wondering about to tarnish the ones who stay in their place. Geralt relaxed back into his throne, letting his eyelids slip shut, and with a sickening jolt, he awoke once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finally awake I see” the knight beside him piped up, and it was only then Geralt’s mind registered the sway of the horse he was sitting on. That’s right,he thought, they were going to Toussaint, and are most likely close given the warm air around him. Geralt grunted, the other knight beside him noticed he was awake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have no clue how you are able to sleep sitting up, on a horse no less.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You get used to it,” the Wolf said simply, not bothering to explain more as his throat was already sore. For what reason? This time he did not know, it hurt more than usual, an aching sensation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>** </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>find the beast. The beast, who was leaning over the dead body of one of his friends, looking at him with rather beautiful blue eyes filled with shock, his black coated form still hunched over the body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, hey there” Geralt started, nodding towards the (no doubt) vampire, judging by his claws running through the victim. The vampire looked so confused it was almost funny, eyebrows pressing together and lips pursing, a vein appearing in his temple as he spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah... greetings, witcher.” He rasped, more so than Geralt. His voice sinfully deep and rolling, like peeling rust off an old blade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We gonna talk about the fact you just killed him or do you wanna hear about the differences between ghouls and alghouls?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ran, straight out the window as well. Geralt mocked offense, gasping and pressing his hand to his chest like an offended lady, and then darting out after him. Weaving his way through the crowds with expert precision, while the vampire stumbled and bumped into people left and right. It would have been sad if he hadn’t been so fucking fast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arriving at a strange run down warehouse, Geralt saw the vampire’s  red and black mist burst through the door, and paused outside to prepare. Downing some black blood and allowing his blood to boil, it’s impossible heat racing through his veins. He sighed, unsheathed his blade, and entered the room. Eyes immediately drifting up to interlock with the stunning blue that almost reminded him of Eredin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guess you don’t want to talk about the difference between ghouls and alghouls. So how about you tell me if this hand is yours and not? It’s fucking moving.” Geralt huffed, offering up the wriggling hand up to the man, briefly looking at it with barely concealed curiosity and disgust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s mine. You may keep it.” The man said, as if Geralt wanted to have his fucking hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh so I’m just going to keep your disembodied fucking hand for my disembodied hand collection?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have one?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt almost groaned. Settling for attaching it back into a spare bag, he might take a closer look at it later and study it but for now he had a job to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not know you, I have done you no harm. Yet first you butchered a bruxa who was dear to me and then pursue me. Why?” The vampire growled, straight to the point in an accusing tone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How refreshing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You killed four innocent people, at least.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you? How many innocents have you cut down?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More so than you ever will match.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vampire was silent for a while, grunting deeply and then finally speaking in his strange tone. “Did they send you after me? Who are they?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, ‘they’? Duchess hired me, you're murdering her subjects,” Geralt huffed, leaning against a dusty wall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The vampire, who admittedly looked straight out of a two crown romance, chuckled, deep and sinful as he started pacing, his belts jingling with his steps. Geralt felt the startings of a blush burn the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Is it as simple as that? I would ask for you to convey to the duchess that I have but one victim left, but...” his nails lengthened into claws, his jaw shifted from his teeth no doubt growing larger and thicker, his face flattened and changed, and with the rushing of air, he appeared right in front of Geralt, who was unfazed through all this. “You’ll not get the chance.” He raised his hand, and struck with a loud, inhuman grunt. The witcher only gracefully spun out of the way, raising his free hand and letting a smoldering pillar of flames burst from his hand, sparks flying yet not burning anything aside from his intended target, who screamed, and appeared behind him in a mass of smoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So that’s how this fight would go</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Geralt adjusted his stance, rolling backwards under the strike of the vampire’s claws, bringing his sword with him, cutting along the tendons of his knee, pushing his feet into the dirt and jumping up into a stand, just in time to block the incoming claws of the man, pushing down with inhuman strength on his blade. The god was unaffected, for it was quite like a rock resting in his hand rather than the might of an immortal enraged being that wished to kill him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled an intimidating, feral grin that spoke of a future of unimaginable pain and, with the flick of his pinky, the shadows in the depths of the room shifted, wrapping their way around the vampires lower body, trapping him in place. He took a step back, dropping his blade and sending an amused look at the other who, by the looks of it, just realized he couldn’t move. Geralt grabbed the other by the throat, allowing his own blunt nails to form into claws, piercing the flesh and drawing streams of blood from the increasingly panicked nonhuman. Geralt clicked his tongue, allowing his voice to distort, yet keeping his almost human body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“How foolish, fighting something you have no understanding of.” </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other froze, understanding dawning on his features, his pure shock making his features return to normal, the concentration it required having moved elsewhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You- you are..” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“I am.”</em>
  </b>
  <span> Geralt’s grin grew. A grin which fell into panic once he heard the faint noise of another vampires smoke, and the smell of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Regis.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Letting his claws retract, he stumbled back feigning vulnerability and weakness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You will attack me,” Geralt commanded, forcing the shadows back to their original places. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” The vampires eyes widened, eyebrows furrowing in concern. He looked so worried that it pulled on the witchers heartstrings, but now was not the time for emotion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now,” Geralt hissed, forcing his will towards the other, who started to tremble, muscled jumping and twisting in their effort to restrain themselves. Ultimately it failed, and he returned to his bestial form, lunging at Geralt with the intent to drive him through, the witcher moved himself to a position of surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO!” A voice Geralt thought he would never hear again rang out, and the form of Regis appeared, spearing himself on the claws of the darker male. The surgeon placed his hand on the back of the others head, breath heaving as Geralt forced Dettlaff to speak, the others voice coming out slurred yet clear, fond yet powerful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were to stay where you were, regenerate.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Both of them knew Regis was not supposed to be here, instead healing from the attack anywhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> here. Looking at his grey hair and frail form, he still hasn’t fully recovered. But this was the vampire who healed Regis? The one who pulled him from the bubbling smear Vilgefortz created? Geralt would have been a lot more lenient in his attacks if he knew. From behind Regis’ shoulder Geralt mouthed the words that must be said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘I’m sorry, it must be done.’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dettlaff nodded minutely as Regis spoke, strained, in pain, yet not wavering in its strength. Geralt felt his heart tear in half at the sound of the voice he thought he would never hear in this world again. Only the muffled, underwater noise of the afterlife. In that place nobody's voice was really </span>
  <em>
    <span>theirs. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Everything contradicted itself in that world, and so did the people that resided there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re in trouble. I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>help,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Regis pleaded, way too kind for his own good, as he always was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help myself!” Dettlaff shouted of his own volition, both witcher and elder vampire looked at him in surprise as he moved to yank his hand from the others chest, the noise wet and disgusting, a fresh spatter of blood painting the floor. Regis only pulled him back into place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. He’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Regis strained, and Dettlaff hissed, ripping his claws from the others chest in one swift movement. The blue eyed vampire turned to a mist and fluttered out the window, winding around them both before finally leaving. Geralt felt his nerves rise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes Geralt. It’s me,” Regis turned around, showing his face and Geralt felt his heart rip once more. He wasn’t supposed to be here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regis… You.. alright?” Geralt settled for that, instead of yelling and prodding for answers he so wanted right now. He reigned himself in, sighing deeply to try to rid himself of his nerves which doubled by the second, as he normally did with Yennefer when she was being increasingly difficult instead of just grabbing her by the hair and throwing her out the fifth story window of Kaer Morhen like he desperately wanted. Lambert and Eskel were nothing but enablers to his temptations, the bastards. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis smiled, and huffed. “All is well, wounds like these heal on vampires in moments. But we’ve not seen each other in ages, my friend. In human terms that is.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt almost cried. Not just human terms, in witcher as well. It felt like eons since he last saw Regis, had been able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span> him instead of the sulfur he smelled when Geralt brought Regis to him while he was a glass pillar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last I saw you.. you were..” Geralt trailed off, not exactly wanting to remind himself of Regis’ pained wails that Vilgefortz caused. That was one of the few times Geralt’s grip on reality slipped from his tight grip. Usually when he goes into his true form, it’s entirely consensual. But the unimaginable </span>
  <em>
    <span>rage</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt felt when he heard Regis’ cries just threw it all out of the window. When he came to, Vilgefortz was nothing but a pile of shredded meat, cloth, shards of bone, a few strands of hair, and no doubt gallons of blood coating the walls and floor, and remembering Ciri’s and Yennefer’s looks, him as well. He was lucky that they didn’t see his true form, only saw him lunging with a look of anger. He moved too fast for them to be able to register what he looked like until it was too late. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis sauntered forward, no doubt seeing the unease on Geralt’s face, and wrapping his arms around him. “I was a bubbling, shapeless smear, having rather spectacularly been melted into a column of a certain castle.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt didn’t know how he could say that so easily. So he didn’t respond, only wrapped his arms tightly around Regis and squeezed, nuzzling his nose deep into Regis’ shoulder and shivering, a full body shiver that brought tears to his eyes. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>scent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This was Regis. He was alive. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His friend. His love. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Geralt swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to whimper, only hiding himself further in his friends loving embrace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In somewhat better shape now, as you can see. Hardly peak form, mind you, but were I human, folk would think of me a demigod, I dare say.” Regis didn’t force him away, only rubbed one hand along his back and one hand over his hair, nuzzling his cheek against the back of Geralt’s head. Geralt promised himself that Regis would be peak form by the end of this, and if he was lucky, much much more than a demigod. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Geralt apologized voice a mere whisper, for what he did not know. Multiple reasons perhaps. “What happened— it was my fault. Never hand a chance to apologize.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No need, Geralt. Bygones. I did not have to join you, no one twisted my arm.” Regis soothed, scratching his nails on the back of his throat deliciously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt collected himself, shifting away from Regis until the vampire unwrapped him from his protective hug, and they parted. He felt cold from the sudden lack of Regis’ body heat, but tried his best to ignore it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Local serial killer seems to obey you. Maybe you could talk him out of it, convince him to stop murdering.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis meandered towards a pair of dusty crates, and sat down, rolling his shoulders with a series of pops. “Why do you think I’ve come? It shall not be easy, as Dettlaff is rather stubborn. Though you must certainly recall that neither do I surrender readily.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So that’s his name. He's your.. friend?” Geralt faintly remembers luring him into Stygga so he could find Regis, never caught his name, was too busy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You might call it that. Though Dettlaff is.. how would you humans put it.. more bestial than I am. But not to worry, I’m working on it.” Regis remarked fondly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Haven’t exactly done a great job with that. He’s killed one knight before I got here, and at least three others before I arrived.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis stood “For good reason, I’m sure. Understand, Dettlaff is not some decadent shit who kills for sport or to assuage a dryness of throat or a dullness of mood.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt crossed his arms “So in your opinion, what’re his reasons?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Precisely what I wish to find out. And then I will convince him the error of his ways” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got a lot of faith in the guy.” Geralt grumbled dryly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Despite appearances to the contrary, you two are quite alike. You’ve both noble hearts yet you both are wont to do ignoble deeds - when circumstances force you to, of course.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wolf wondered if Dettlaff has ever performed the ‘ignoble’ deed of slaughtering tens and millions just so others could start on a clean canvas. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis strided over to the open window, back to Geralt. “Remember the year 964?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt huffed, shrugging. “That was three centuries ago. What about it?” Of course he remembered, Lambert came running into his room screaming at the top of his lungs about it. Acted like it blew his fucking mind. Probably did. It also left Geralt with a lot of shit to clean up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Blind fear gripped Rivia, Lyria, and Spalla. Women and children were dying, their mutilated, dismembered corpses littering the fields.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brute of Lyria— read about it” Geralt lied, “Chewed up almost two hundred, then fell to a common poacher supposedly armed with some dagger blessed by a prophet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It fell to Dettlaff. Who then found a poacher asleep in the brush near his snares and dropped the corpse at his feet. And thus, a legend was born.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt should really thank the guy. “Awfully good of him. But do I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know this?” He almost whined, just wishing to enjoy Regis’ presence without having to think about the work that came with that fuckload of corpses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. So you can understand Dettlaff is no cold blooded killer. I believe he’s landed in some mess, and he sees no way out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What makes you say that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vilgefortz melted my body. Dettlaff found what was left. As per our codex, he had a choice- to leave me where I was, or to care for me, nurture my remains. He chose the latter. Regenerated me at no small expanse in his own blood. Do you know what that means to a vampire, the gravity of the endeavor?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Geralt firmly said, understanding practically exploding from his tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The act itself made us blood brethren, a bond so strong humans cannot even imagine. Which is why I know something is afoot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt halted himself from explaining that witchers have these bonds as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Always had an overdeveloped sense of empathy” he murmured fondly instead, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Each vampire has a unique talent. One they hone over centuries. It’s precisely what makes us so difficult to classify. Dettlaff’s trump card is his herd instinct, his tribal propensity. In point of fact, he prefers the company of lesser vampires and shuns that of humans. If he walks among you, killing egregiously, it can only mean somethings upset him, immensely.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything specific, something that might have set him off?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How should I say this.. Dettlaff doesn’t understand men, their world, their rules, their conventions. He’s naive, in a sense. He doesn’t comprehend your games, knows not what it means to deceive, to lie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt chuckled dryly “Suggesting hes maladjusted.. and venting his rage?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m suggesting maladjustment can at times breed conflict. But is that the case this time? I cannot say.. but intend to find out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gotta find him, before something upsets him even more and all of Beauclair is awash with blood.” Oh what a busy day that would be. Unpleasant just thinking about it. Vesemir would have his ass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis stepped close to him, their chests almost bumping together. “Well, we share a cause then, Just like the old days.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not entirely. I mean when I find him, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know..” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Geralt trails off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’ve a contract on his head. Yet your true task is to stop the beast from killing, not necessarily to kill the beast, am I correct?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt could deal with that. “All in all, sure”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let us find him. By the time we do, I hope I’ll have convinced you Dettlaff is no monster.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Alright already. But for now evidence is stacking up against him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis turned his head, seemingly distracted. “Hear that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt focused, and heard the distant thumping of horses hooves. “The posse. Knights must have tracked me here. Shoulda covered up my tracks better.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis began backing away, talking quickly. “I prefer they not find me here. I’ve makeshift quarters at Mère-Lachaiselongue cemetery. We will meet there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See you” Geralt hissed equally as quickly, as one of the horses neighed, their footsteps rapidly approaching and stopping outside the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a rush of air Regis turned into a grey and black mist, fluttering out the same way Dettlaff left, and as soon as he did, the door busted open, three young knights running in, the feathers on their helmets looking wind blown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Witcher! We flew here as fast as our coursers would carry us. Yet I fear we’re late all the same! Pray, where is the beast?!” The first knight heaved, breathless and raspy, like his throat was gravel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt made his voice firm, making no room for argument “Still investigating, about to inspect this site. Withdraw your men before they trample all over the evidence.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The knight nodded and loudly cleared his throat “Sirs! We must let the Witcher do his work, Miltons murder cannot go unavenged.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all turned, and made their way out, their plated armor shifting and creaking silently enough for only Geralt to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>** </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what’s it like.. death.” Geralt murmured, gripping the neck of the glass bottle a little tighter. He was curious, he needed to know. How would Regis describe his world, </span>
  <em>
    <span>him?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost impossible to describe, Geralt. But I shall try nonetheless.” Regis nodded, and Geralt’s curiosity grew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was all.. black.. I could barely see my hand in front of my face. I felt as if I was floating there, held up by seemingly nothing. The smell of sulfur was nearly suffocating. In the distance there was pieces of staircases, and hallways, so far apart it would be impossible to traverse them without some form of teleportation, but the fact that it was there </span>
  <em>
    <span>fascinates </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, Geralt. Buildings mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>life.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So there were people there, more than the one I saw.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You saw someone?” Geralt made damn sure he was the only person Regis saw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is where it gets even more confusing, I’m afraid. It seemed like you were there, or.. a strange version of you. You were taller, hair longer, and I hope I don’t insult but you looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Your eyes were completely black, skin paler than usual, and veins looked like they were filled with tar. Your nails were more like claws, and you had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>crown</span>
  </em>
  <span>, with strange, frankly beautiful silks falling down your body. They were thin, so I could see your chest. Your voice was gnarled.. mangled, yet I could still recognize that it sounded like you. It was strangely unsettling yet comforting all the same.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded, satisfied. “Weird..” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We had </span>
  <em>
    <span>wine</span>
  </em>
  <span> together, Geralt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Out of nowhere I was in a vast green field with you sitting on one side of a small table and an empty chair on the other. You didn’t explain much, were very evasive in your answers, but told me that I was on the fence between life and death. Geralt I quite believe that was one of the strangest experiences I have ever gone through.” Regis took the bottle from Geralt’s hand, gently, as always, and gulped heavily, then held it against his knee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like it there?” The witcher leaned forward, wanting to know the answer more than what would be healthy. Regis seemed stumped, surprised almost, and he hummed, thinking how he was going to word things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I believe I do. There’s an odd sense of safety that eventually radiated off that version of you. At first it was threatening, almost swallowing me up whole, but eventually it became a comforting sense. I could truly relax. Not have to worry about keeping up the forms of being human. And the strange nature of the world kept me eternally curious.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded, satisfied. “Thanks, Regis.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, My friend. Now I believe it’s your turn, correct? ” The vampire handed the bottle back to the Witcher, it’s contents gushing inside </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt tossed his head back, swallowing firmly before nodding, cringing while trying to sort through the words he wanted to use versus the ones he shouldn’t touch with a twenty foot pole. “Alright, give you one question, what do you wanna ask?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only one question to ask one as fascinating as you, Geralt? Cruel parsimony, I’d say. But I shall do my best to make it count.” Regis smiles, not bothering to hide his teeth, which sent warmth to fill up Geralt’s chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How is your Yennefer doing? Last I saw of her she was quite a mess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt tossed his head back and</span>
</p><p>
  <span>laughed, loudly, before folding in half and covering his mouth, shoulders shaking in the effort of suppressing his humor. “That was an understatement. But eventually Yen and I wished for our bond to break, well, more Yen than me. But turns out I feel nothing for her. She’s more like a close friend than someone I would like to spend the rest of my life with. I love her, yeah.. but not like that.” He hums, looking back up at Regis with a small smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis nodded “Honesty is an attribute of the truly brave, Geralt. I thank you” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Course” Geralt nods.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tesham Mutna</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Awooga goes the Witcher as the vampire gets put in horny jail</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Geralt sat bonelessly in the central throne, the one in the highest point on the platform, the rest of the brother's thrones resting on lower points, but being on the highest point was a double-edged sword. He was the one with the most attention in the room and looked somewhat intimidating, but on the other hand, he had around thirty stairs to go down. When you’re absolutely hammered going down them, you end up eating shit halfway down, and have all your brothers laughing at you for months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His clawed black nails traced a bloody skull on the end of the arm, and he continued his speech, his raspy voice cutting through the large decorated room like a hot knife. </span>
  <b>
    <em>“So it </em>
  </b>
  <b>was</b>
  <b>
    <em> a higher vampire, and he did scare the fuck out of me, so do with that what you will..”</em>
  </b>
  <span> He started, smiling at the several groans and loud rambunctious laughter that filled the room as several of his brothers (and sister) passed around money into eagerly awaited hands, the few that didn’t stayed quiet and watched, no doubt disappointed in them all, yet they would exchange their own coin privately where they couldn’t be made fun of. Cowards. Their talking filled the room, happy and bright and the God let himself bask in its presence, in its comfort, before he felt a hand smack his forehead lightly, and yell.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noonwraith!” Which was followed by rather childish giggling, yet made Geralt smile nonetheless, feeling excitement bubble up in his stomach.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>Oh yeah? Not for long!”</em>
  </b>
  <span> He shouted, lunging up and trying to tag the man who tagged him, who he just barely missed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Missed me, Geralt! Gonna have to get good, loser!” They bent at the waist, pulling down one of their eight eyelids and stuck their forked tongue out, and then laughing wildly as Geralt redoubled his efforts. The room was filled with laughter as they played their game, momentarily forgetting their troubles and duties as they ran around the keep, dodging each other's hands so they did not get caught, the elder witchers watching on in subtle fondness, some even joining in themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>———</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eyelids flung open, Geralt instantly took in his surroundings, the most important was the clawed hand petting his hair, and the rumbling </span>
  <em>
    <span>purr </span>
  </em>
  <span>sounding in his chest and throat. Once more he was grateful he could control his blood flow, or else he would be blushing like a Melitile priestess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I-“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit im,” They both started at the same time, then pausing awkwardly, both feeling incredibly embarrassed but not wanting to move away nonetheless, and Geralt's purring never dying down in the slightest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you purring, by the way? It’s quite strange as it resonates behind your collar, yet uses your whole chest to amplify the noise, almost as if it’s coming from your voice box, but your vocal chords are naturally higher up in your throat” The herbalist questioned, which Geralt knew was coming and quite enjoyed answering.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My mutations. Gave me a second voice box.” Geralt said simply, reaching up to urge Regis back into continuing his ministrations, which he did, which the man enjoyed immensely, eyes rolling into the back of his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it could be those vampire mutations? I still believe you have them, despite you ignoring me everytime the subject is brought up” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry about that, not really comfortable talking about it, but yeah. Used a few albino bruxa tongues in all our concoctions, yet used a mix of higher vampire elder in mine, twice I think? Not sure” He nuzzled his nose into Regis’ thigh, enjoying the mans smell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Elder??” Regis gasped, voice twisting in upper confusion. “Geralt— how did your peers manage to kill an </span>
  <em>
    <span>elder vampire</span>
  </em>
  <span>-“ Regis stuttered, trying time wrap his head around it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt just grunted, enjoying the vampires hand still combing through his hair. “We’re really strong, I guess” he murmured, thinking about the time just last month where he ripped the head off a fiend by its horns and then threw it into the emperor's window. That was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> fun night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>** </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood in the doorway, watching the thin form of the old woman sleep in his unused bed, curled up on her side with the cover tucked underneath her chin, her frail fingers curling around the red blanket. The sorcerer sighed, thoughts flooding his mind about what he would do about her in the future, perhaps offer her a place to work here? He could take advantage of the duchesses funding, or just allow her to live with him. He knows he’s most likely not going to be living here past maybe using the bed for some sleep, so he might as well just let her have it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My my, Geralt. What have you gotten into this time?” A familiar voice hummed from behind him, and Geralt grinned, turning around to greet his not-friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O’Dimm, nice to see you again.” The witcher set his gaze on the seemingly normal looking man sitting cross legged on his dining table, the mans black eyes following his movement, yet his head never moving. It was a habit he never saw hiding, as it caused quite a bit of intimidation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, or should I call you </span>
  <em>
    <span>Biała śmierć</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How are you fairing in this thankless world?” The man tilted his head to the side, just a bit, but enough for Geralt to notice, his lips forming around the intricate language. Geralt fell into the silent body language all gods knew intimately, he walked over and sat on the table beside him, propping his arms out behind him and swinging his legs faintly, portraying openness and fondness. Gaunter’s smile widened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doing alright, I guess. Contract from the duchess doesn’t really make you feel the high you feel when you kill a few thousand men, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> resemble the stress” He grinned, bumping his fingers against the mans thigh, the man huffed laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. Nothing quite like the screams of the unworthy” he mused, head finally turning to face the other, amusement glittering in his eyes like stars. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Found Regis, so that’s a huge plus in my favor” Geralt hummed, allowing himself to fall boneless onto the table, way too tired to keep up human social standards. Gaunter chuckled warmly in response, also laying back bonelessly and crossing his arms behind his head, while Geralt’s just hung off the other edge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That vampire friend? Oh my, you must have been overjoyed.” Smugness leaked into Gaunter’s voice, more so than usual, and that’s when the Witcher realized </span>
  <em>
    <span>he knew.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, bastard.” Geralt growled, sending a heated glare at the others smug face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I’m not sure..” The strange entity trailed off, looking at his dirty, blunt and chipped nails “Im not the one with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>raging hard on </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a lesser being.” His lips finally split, showing his white, lion-like teeth, large and more like spikes than teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt set a wide eyed look at his not-enemy, before punching him straight in the throat. It didn’t do anything, just caused to other to laugh loudly, warm like honey. After a few moments of the merchant's laughter, he became strangely quiet, and Geralt looked curiously at him. With closer inspection he looked almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>sad</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and his smile lessened to that business smile he always had on, and the God rolled over and sat his chin on the others chest. As he breathed in to ask what was wrong, the entity spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope we can be on the same side one day, Geralt.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ja też, Zjadaczu Dusz” Geralt sighed, and with that, Gaunter was gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt sat on the table, staring a hole into the place Gaunter once laid, feeling as if a hand was wrapped around his heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>** </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Watching Regis step inside a cage designed for torture was not something Geralt wanted to see, but had too anyway. The slabs of rotting meat was already drawing in the necrophages by the sounds of it, and Geralt hurried his motions of chaining the cage closed, taking one last look at his friend's thin shaking body. Neither of them said anything as Geralt pulled a rusty lever and sent Regis into the air, and finally, through each hole most likely caused by the raking nails of the skeletons strewn about the floor, they slipped through, more than he thought was going too, to be honest, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He only hoped Regis’ bloodlust would rise quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hopes were answered, apparently, as he felt his blade cut through his seventh ghoul, Regis made a suppressed </span>
  <em>
    <span>whine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Geralt paused, pushing down the strange feeling in his chest that arose when Regis made the oddly intimate noise to be examined thoroughly another time, ignoring how his heart hammered in his chest. Though, that pause seemed to be a little too long, and the passing claws of a Fleder against his temple was deep enough to draw blood, and as head wounds are, a lot of it. Geralt flicked his blade, letting it pass through the arm of the Fleder like a hot knife on a stick of butter, passing through bone and arteries, drawing more and more blood to drive Regis further. Geralt rolled away from the low swipe of a rather injured ghoul, and checked his head, it wasn’t anything to worry about, by the feel of it. The only thing he had to worry about was it getting into his eyes. He hoped Regis didn’t smell it, but by the hellacious roar that came from his mouth as soon as he thought that, he was sure he did. It sounded like it would belong in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> world. Raspy and gnarled, like the scrape of boulders against one another. The witcher found himself once again pushing down feelings he wasn’t sure that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be feeling. A light dusting of blush rose onto his cheeks, which truthfully was good as he had enough blood to blush, but the embarrassment that followed was not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He parried one blow, dodged another, flicking his sword gracefully this way and that. Intentionally drawing as much blood as he could, all while defending himself from the sea of monsters surrounding him. Like a gruesome dance restricted for the best of the best swordsmen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis </span>
  <em>
    <span>howled</span>
  </em>
  <span>, jerking the cage this way and that and soon his gravelly, almost feral voice that sounded like nothing his mind could come up with rang out, no doubt shaking the room itself in its force. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“You look delightful! Forcing your way through beings lesser than us, my love. Cutting your way through them like a cat teasing a mouse. Your muscles bulging through your armor as you cut them down like an angel in battle. Let me join you, dove, in cutting down the ones unworthy of your touch.” </b>
  <span>Regis rumbled, his voice cutting through the noises of the various gurgles and screams of the feral creatures surrounding the ‘angel’ just like his blade. Geralt felt his blush increase, burning his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It seemed he had upped his game in trying to escape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt felt a part of him die a little, humorous given his job, but kept his focus on hacking the beings apart, a ghoul here, another Fleder there. The combat became mind numbing, he wasn’t even focusing on it anymore, and he found himself wondering what Regis would come up with next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“They are unworthy! They should not be able to touch your supple flesh while </b>
  <b>
    <em>I</em>
  </b>
  <b> suffer from holding myself back from </b>
  <b>
    <em>ravishing </em>
  </b>
  <b>your pale throat! From having your sweet life dripping from my lips as you writhe against—“ </b>
  <span>Regis roared, the cage groaning against his strength dangerously, and Geralt found himself even more interested than before, but kicked the decapitated head of a ghoul up at him anyway. Regis laughed loudly, mockingly almost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“They should not be touching what doesn’t belong to them!” </b>
  <span>The vampire shouted, with what Geralt could only describe as all consuming </span>
  <em>
    <span>rage. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Was this what the herbalist was like when he was younger? Possessive, manipulative, saying anything he could just to get his way despite the consequences? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt shivered, either in disgust or arousal he did not know, but he soon froze in absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>terror</span>
  </em>
  <span> in which he has not felt in such a long time. His bones became filled with an icy fear once he heard the chain finally break. There was a moment of silence in the room, even the ghouls have paused to process what this just meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ghouls ran, clawing their way back into where they came, the Katakans and Fleders both squealed and launched themselves back into the tunnels, but Geralt stood in the middle of the room, frozen like a deer in front of a carriage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The herbalist appeared in front of him and their eyes locked together, gold meeting a coal black as the vampire's gaze seemed to cut right through him. Eyeing him like a starving man looking at a seven course meal straight from the Emperor's kitchen. Suddenly Geralt’s stomach was a bucket of writhing eels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regis, let’s talk about this” The hunter turned hunted pleaded, holding his left hand up slowly in an attempt to calm the other, feeling as if any sudden movement would send the currently frozen man to attack faster than he could respond. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>What’s there to talk about love?” </b>
  <span>Regis tilted his head, clasping his clawed hands together like this was a normal meeting among friends, but the pet name didn’t just go by Geralt, it seemed to cut into him just like the vampire's gaze was already. He almost shivered if he wasn’t so afraid of the movement triggering the vampire to attack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Know you’re gonna attack me, gonna propose the idea that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>lunge at me” Geralt supplied his argument, turning his hand over like he was offering the suggestion in physical form. Regis seemed to mull over it, his form breathless and unmoving. He seemed to loom above Geralt despite Geralt being a little taller than the other. The witcher had most likely never felt so vulnerable in a long time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Will you be a good little witcher and come to whom you belong?” </b>
  <span>Regis questioned, stepping forward with inhuman grace, licking his lips with an unnaturally long tongue, and with that sentence, and the actions that came after it, Geralt’s fear turned into arousal. Suddenly, Regis craned his neck backwards, taking a long inhale and rolling his neck back and forth, almost like he did when smelling Dettlaff’s hand, letting out a loud, drawn out </span>
  <em>
    <span>moan</span>
  </em>
  <span> that stood in the air between them for what felt like hours before he finally lowered his neck and fixed Geralt with a look that was purely </span>
  <em>
    <span>predatory</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <b>“You smell phenomenal, my sweet, absolutely breathtaking. Like morning dew on roses, warmed by the golden sun. Clean like lemons and citrus, sweet like chocolate and strawberries. Your scent twists with itself to form an arousing array of smells, a bouquet that I must make mine. You understand, don’t you? Darling, to be frank, I plan to fuck you blind.” </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds fun but you’re in a bloodlust, Regis—“ Geralt choked, restricting his blood flow from going into the lower part of his body, causing his toes to tingle but at this moment it wasn’t that important. The raging blush on his cheeks and probably being too flustered to run was, though, an issue. Regis had smelled his arousal and </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“I don’t see what’s wrong with that?”</b>
  <span> Regis growled, his rough tones shaking Geralt’s bones like twigs in a hurricane. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt turned on his heel and </span>
  <em>
    <span>ran</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not caring of the noise he was making as he leaped his way up onto a tunnel, slamming his feet into the cobble to propel himself faster, he could hear Regis’ enraged shrieks and curses as he followed, making Geralt desperately move himself faster, his legs no doubt nothing but a blur. He was moving so fast he couldn’t even process the things that flew by, but could feel the vampires presence hopelessly gain on him. Suddenly, the witcher stopped, flinging bodily into a dead end, the breath leaving his lungs in one fell swoop, falling to his knees and heaving for breath. A deep, grating laugh and a strong hand forcing his chin upwards brought his attention to a rather mussed up but excited Regis. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>“Oh darling, that was a mistake. I’ll have to punish you for that. I hope you understand dearest, pets must be punished. How about we start with some bloodletting, and work our way up, hm?” </b>
  <span>His sinister voice purred as he pressed his lips against Geralt’s brow, giving him a strange mockery of a kiss, as the wrinkles of his wet lips felt rather strange, but made the sorcerer tremble nonetheless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can only make so much of that, heartbeat is rather slow, y’know.” Geralt huffed, heartbeat at the moment the exact opposite of slow, it thumbing against his ribs like a panicked bird beating against the bars of its own cage. His friend hummed, letting his tongue pick up a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, and no doubt some blood from the monsters that he killed earlier, he finally moved down to go face to face with the man on his knees, which was exactly what Geralt was waiting for. Despite his thumping heart, shaking limbs, and being absolutely covered in sweat and blood, Geralt was still a witcher. A witcher who endured so much pain and hardship. So in a quick movement, he put his own arm on the inner side of the vampires elbow, and shoved, dislodging the vampires grip on his chin and </span>
  <em>
    <span>lunging</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wrapping his arm around the now surprised vampires throat and pinning him to the ground with his own body before the other could even respond. Regis keened, struggling and thrashing like an animal in a cage, which he basically was a few minutes ago, but not managing to break free until in a slow, sensual movement, Regis moved his tongue to the witchers ear, licking along its shell and Geralt instantly crumpled, knees going weak and a soft moan forcing from his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regis instantly took advantage, rolling them over and ripping his claws down Geralt’s leather armor like wet parchment, showing his scarred pale chest and biting into his left breast, right around the nipple. The god </span>
  <em>
    <span>whimpered</span>
  </em>
  <span>, tossing his head back against the hard floor, the feel of Regis in between his legs and his tongue swirling around his breast almost consuming him, but the mutant reminded himself of the situation he was in, and despite the now </span>
  <em>
    <span>painfully working blood flow </span>
  </em>
  <span>to his lower body, Geralt used his regained strength to flip them over once more, pinning Regis on his stomach to the floor so he couldn’t reuse his rather dirty strategy, and with a bit of magic, forced him to sleep until his bloodlust abated. Summoning a nice silk cloak with golden embroidery of wolves, he propped his friend against the wall and covered him fully, Regis almost swimming in its length. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hidden god killed the time by changing into the Tesham Mutna armor he received prior to all this, and trying his best to fix up the maimed chestplate that no doubt is already done for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Deciding to wear the robes of witcher make might have not been the brightest idea, as the Duchess of fucking Toussaint was now circling him like a shark, taking in his embroided robes that flowed down his body like a silken waterfall, flittering in the slight wind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wherever did you buy this? It’s absolutely astonishing, I’ve never seen anything like it.” She hummed, running her fingers across the golden imprint of dual swords across his back, it’s cloth cool against her hands and his body.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Made it. It’s the wear of witchers, we normally keep it from humans but it’s more comfortable than any doublet I’ll ever find here. It’s called a Furisode. ” Geralt grumbled as Ana nodded silently, donning her own mask as Geralt once again put on his wolf mask with a deep sigh. He hated parties. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>———————-</p><p>
  <span>** zjadacz Dusz is “Spirit/Soul Eater” in Polish, Ja też, Zjadaczu Dusz means “Me too, Spirit/Soul eater” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
  <em>
    <span>Biała śmierć </span>
  </em>
  <span>means White Death in Polish</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Furisode is a style of a Kimono, known for its long sleeves. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Spicy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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